me on my throne. If you must have war,
have it. But I tell you this: God has no part in it. Leave God out of
the game!

[_He sinks into the chair by the desk._

PRIME MINISTER

[_To_ MINISTER OF WAR.

Call your Secretary!

[MINISTER OF WAR _goes to the door. The_ SECRETARY
_enters. The_ PRIME MINISTER _takes a paper out of his pocket._

Here. It is a copy of the message I directed you to send to the news
bureaus and embassies. Transmit it at once.

[_The_ SECRETARY _bows and goes out. The_ KING _falls
forward on the desk, sobbing. At his side, straight and stern, the_
PRIME MINISTER _Stands. To_ MINISTER OF WAR.

Give orders for immediate mobilization.

[_The stage is slowly darkened._

SCENE II

_As the lights rise again they reveal a small, comfortably furnished
clubroom, with a wide window opening on a balcony in the back, and doors
right and left. It is evening and the electric lamps are lit._

GROSVENOR, _a man of fifty-odd, large, sleek, unctuous,
well-groomed, is discovered in an arm-chair, surrounded by newspapers.
He glances with feverish interest at one after the other. A cheer is
heard outside, then the sound of fifes and drums. He rises excitedly and
throws open the French window. The tramp, tramp of a regiment is heard._
TWO OFFICERS _in uniform, a_ GENERAL _and a_ CAPTAIN, _enter left._

GENERAL

[_A strongly-built man in middle age, with a firm, resolute face._

Evening, Grosvenor. Not poaching on your rights if we come in here a
minute? The other windows were crowded.

GROSVENOR

Not at all, General, not at all. We're all making way for the khaki
today, sir. And proud to have the chance.

[_With overdone politeness to the Captain, a handsome man of the
romantic type._

Take my place, Captain.

CAPTAIN

Thanks. Great tune that, eh? Stirs up a man's vitals, eh?

GROSVENOR

Yes, indeed; yes, indeed.

CAPTAIN

Wait till we put that into the repertory of the enemy's bandmasters.

[_Leaning out of the window._

Come. They're a fine-looking lot, eh?

GENERAL

Fine! Fine! The pick of the land. Fighters to a finish, every one of
'em.

CAPTAIN

And say, but they're thanking God tonight for the war-scare that's
brought 'em back from manoeuvres.

GROSVENOR

[_Eagerly._

They are, eh?

CAPTAIN

Manoeuvres are too tame. They're crazy to get into a real fight.

GROSVENOR

[_In excited, subdued tones._

Then you think--there'll be